Collision
by jessicalorewrites
Summary: COLLISION (n) 1. an instance of one moving object or person striking violently against another [or] 2. when a struggling young mother finds herself unceremoniously lost in a world of magic. (James II/OC)


**Chapter One  
November 6th 2029**

The clear liquid sloshed into the cup, droplets spilling onto the kitchen counter as the hot water mixed with the coolness of the coffee in perfect harmony. Sugar next, exactly two and a half teaspoons followed by a tap to the edge of the cup, metal meeting porcelain in an unparalleled beauty.

I savoured the silence soon after, balancing myself on a wonky kitchen chair with a mug of steaming coffee curled in hand. The clock on the wall – though five minutes fast – told me it was nearing half past seven. Soon the peace and tranquillity that came at such an early hour would be disturbed and I would find myself having to get dressed for the day's work.

There was solace in the early morning though, something hardly any appreciated, and so for as long as my son would let me, I cocked my head to the side so I could see out of the dingy kitchen window and watched the world outside begin to rise, too.

A while later the pitter-pattering of feet on the tiled flooring alerted me to the arrival of my six year old. He entered the room with as much energy as all children seemed to possess no matter the time, jumping up to take a seat at the small, rounded kitchen table beside me.

"Morning Mum!" Smiling cheerfully, Spencer kicked his legs out happily from beneath him, still far too short to reach the floor. "What's for breakfast?"

Returning his smile, I reached over to ruffle his sandy-coloured hair, "whatever you want, kiddo."

As I prepared his bowl of cereal he rambled on about something or other to do with school. The end of term was just a few short weeks away and, for him, they couldn't come quick enough. I, on the other hand, would need to spend my time looking for a babysitter whilst I was out working five days a week - something Spencer was never pleased about. I would also have to try and find the money to pay for said babysitter out of somewhere.

In the last year, the rent on our small, one bedroomed apartment had rocketed up. It was already far too cramped for what we needed – I slept on the sofa, for heaven's sake – but at the rate it was going, by the time the new year came around we would be living out of a cardboard box.

"Mum, are you even listening to me?" Spencer's olive green eyes connected with mine as I set the bowl of cereal in front of him.

"Hmm, sorry, no," I offered him a weak smile. There was a tap at the door and as I moved over to open it, I spoke at him over my shoulder. "What were you saying?"

"Can I go on the school trip?" The six year old repeated, smiling hopefully. "Pleaseeeeee! It's for Science. Miss Waterton said it would be really fun."

"No, Spencer," I sighed, doorknob in hand. "Sorry sweetie - maybe some other time."

It was horrible to have to deny him of such opportunities but I didn't really have a choice. We just couldn't afford it. Especially not with Christmas on its way, which I was already having difficulties trying to scrape the money together for.

Pulling the door wide, my smile returned graciously for the lean man on the other side. Conscious of the fact I was still only in my duck-covered pyjamas and fluffy socks, I casually tried to close the gap a little, hiding my body as best I could behind the door frame.

"Nice 'jamas," the man laughed despite my efforts, making me frown and stick my tongue out. I was usually dressed – or at least wearing a dressing gown – by the time he arrived.

"Just give me my post," I muttered to which he abided before waving at Spencer and leaving.

It had been a recurrent thing that had been ongoing since Sean moved into one of the apartments across from me several years ago. When he'd noticed how hesitant I'd been to leave Spencer – especially in his younger years – alone in the apartment whilst I went down to the lobby to pick up the post, Sean had agreed to get mine at the same time he was down getting his.

I had courteously accepted his offer and it had worked like that ever since.

When I finally turned to face Spencer again, I found him pouting at me. "Please Mum," he whined. "I promise I'll behave."

"No," stressing the word at him, I sighed quietly. It was times like this when I found it difficult to be a parent. "And that's final."

"Fine," Spencer grumbled, spooning more cereal into his already overflowing mouth. I had no idea where he'd picked up such bad habits. A few of his school friends were a bit brash, I supposed, but quite polite regardless.

Flicking through the post, junk mail and leaflets for take-aways, there was not much of import for the day. The latest edition of _Eleganza_ was amongst the pile, another impossibly attractive young model adorning the cover. But it was a free magazine (courtesy of my best friend) and a comfort I would not give up so easily.

After draining the remnants of my mug (the cute Eeyore one I bought from Disney) and swirling the final dregs of my coffee, I set it down in the sink to wash when I got home later. Both the chores and my magazine could wait whereas neither work nor the local primary school would. I hurried Spencer to finish his breakfast, making his lunch up as he told me about what lessons he had that day. Jam sandwiches, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps, squeezy yoghurt and an – unwanted – banana later, his lunchbox was packed and I was able to begin getting myself ready.

"Go get your uniform on," I yawned, eyeing up the time on the clock. We needed to be out of the apartment by quarter past eight and it was already almost seven forty-five.

With half an hour to spare, I hustled Spencer into his room before turning into the bathroom and quickly picking up the brush from the cabinet under the mirror. The wispiness of my blonde hair made it difficult to brush as it was often far too dry despite the conditioners I continually used on it. Life would be so much easier if I had a magic wand to sort these problems out.

As soon as I'd finished working out the tangles from my shoulder-length mess, I leant down and stretched an arm down the back of the cabinet to pick up the bobby pins that had somehow managed to fall down the crack - yet again. I swore I spent most of my minimal wage on buying new ones every other week.

However despite my constant need for bobby-pin-retrieval, it never took me too long to get ready in a morning. Nor, as a matter of fact, did I spend long getting ready for anything. Where I worked was a classy affair and their uniform reflected this: plain black skirt or trousers matched with a blouse of choice and matt black shoes. It allowed choice and individuality but was also heavily regulated by the owners, Amelie and Saria.

As I exited the bathroom twenty five minutes later wearing a dark blouse dotted with a small floral print and a tight fitted skirt donned on my lower half, Spencer was sat in front of the telly watching an old rerun of a football match, to which I rolled my eyes at. He was obsessed: quite literally. His bedroom was decked out in a vast array of blue and yellow merch; the bed set, the walls – he even had a jersey signed by all the Leeds United players, a present from my sister several birthdays ago.

"C'mon, Spencer, it's time to go," I called as I slipped my girlish arms into my grey coat. As the six year old groaned, dragging his bottle-green clad body towards me, I tied the laces on my shoes and secured a scarf around my neck.

Spencer frowned down at my feet. "Why can't I have laced shoes, Mum?"

Laughing lightly, I shook my head. "Because you can't tie them. When you learn, I'll buy you a pair okay?"

He nodded slowly before fastening up his Velcro trainers. "Will that be soon?"

A smile twitched at the corners of my mouth as I formed a reply. "Sure."

* * *

Spectrum was a lavish boutique in the very heart of Leeds city centre. The front was mostly glass, enabling customers to see right into the store without stepping a foot inside. In the dead centre ran a cushioned hallway, lined with shoes, bags and accessories, which led the way to the dressing rooms. Directly to the left was the ornate marble counter, from where Amelie was waving enthusiastically at me. Around the sides and middle, thousands of dresses were hung carefully on silver hangers.

The bell above the door tinkled softly as I entered the shop, grinning at one of my bosses as she hurried towards me and engulfed me in a hug. Though she was a fair bit smaller than I was, Amelie gave the best hugs. In her mid-thirties, she was kind of like that adorable quirky aunt that just never stopped talking.

"How are you, Freya?" she cried, grasping me tight by the shoulders. Despite seeing me only yesterday, she was still as excitable as ever. "Good, I hope? How's Spencer? Is he doing okay at school?"

"I'm great thanks," I said as I manoeuvred out of her grip. "And so is Spencer." Slinging my satchel loose from my shoulder, I held it up and indicated a door towards the back with a nod of my head before walking through to the staff room and hanging it up, alongside my coat and scarf.

Saria was in there, flicking through _Vogue_ magazine. Although several years older than her sister and into more of the management side of the business, she was still just as interested in fashion as the rest of us. Her dark hair scraped back into a bun, she beamed at me when she saw me. "Freya! I _love _the blouse, where did you get that?"

I shrugged, not wanting to tell her I'd picked it up in the clothing aisle of my local supermarket. "It was a gift," I lied instead.

"Ooh, well hook me up with that friend of yours," she winked. "Their taste is positively divine!"

After sitting and chatting with Saria for a while, I was unfortunately directed to help restock the shoes alongside Tom, an eighteen year old employee who I had a severe disliking of. The whole reason he was still around was eye candy for the elder ladies that came in but, put as nicely as possible, he was an arsehole.

Coming to crouch near where he was working as I set down the precarious stack of shoeboxes I'd been carrying, I saw that he was noisily chomping on his signature snack: a piece of chewing gum.

When he saw me he called out. "Alright, Freys," he said, ambling towards me, his jaw moving a mile a minute. "Want some?" He extended a half-eaten pack towards me.

"No thanks." I tried my hardest not to grimace at his nickname for me. No matter how often I told him I didn't like it, he insisted on it. Instead of raising the issue again though, I shrugged and said "it'll only make my coffee taste weird." Back in the staff room sat a lukewarm mug, the evaporated steam long gone. It had been sitting there for at least half an hour, idly cooling as I'd talked with Saria.

Tom rolled his eyes and tutted. "You women and your bloody coffee." He was the only one on the staff who didn't enjoy the heavenly drink. I was surprised he'd even got a job with that attitude. To the Sinclairs, coffee was sacred.

I thrust a pair of heels into his olive-skinned hands, taking advantage of his proximity. As hard as I tried to like Tom as much as Amelia and Saria did, it was difficult: probably because of his constant jeering and vaguely misogynistic views on many issues. He really wasn't great in terms of character. Looks, sure, but what were tight brown curls when you laughed at rape jokes?

Absolutely nothing.

For very personal reasons I hated men like him. And yet at the same time, I was a fairly polite woman who didn't like to draw unnecessary attention to myself, and so I chose to ignore it as best I could.

Thankfully, we didn't share many shifts together.

* * *

"I'm just going to pop over for a cupcake at that cutesy shop down the street, Freya."

My eyes darted up from the magazine I was reading, one I'd hastily stuffed in my bag that morning, wide and confused for a moment until I focused on Amelie's figure by the door. Her nose was wrinkled; not in a disgusted way, in an anticipating way as if she couldn't wait to be scurrying from the shop to scoff her biweekly sugar fix.

"Bring me one back too?" I forced my sweetest grin onto my face, batting my eyelids hopefully.

Amelie rolled her eyes and nodded. "Of course pumpkin! Be back in a mo."

And then she was out the door, leaving me alone with only my thoughts and my copy of _Eleganza_ for company. With Tom's short, four hour shift over and Saria out at a business meeting, we were the only two left working for the day.

Though suddenly it had become just me. All the same, I didn't mind. Times like those were what I lived for, the quiet moments between bustling cars and shining stars; those few seconds, moments even, where you and the world were one.

Then, of course, you were interrupted.

The pretty young redhead preceded the chime of the bell, beaming before she'd even fully opened the door as her almond eyes fell on me. She pulled off her knitted beanie – not dissimilar to one I owned – and shook out a mane of fiery hair that pooled around her neck.

"Hello," the girl said, practically skipping towards me. When she stopped, right before the counter, she gave me one of the widest grins I'd ever seen – even after working with Amelie for over five years. It stretched from one side of her face to the other, interrupted only be the freckles that dusted her cheeks. "I'm in need of a dress. A very specific dress, actually, but my girlfriend tells me this place is top quality."

"Well, I can certainly help with that, er –" I paused.

"Lily," Lily supplied. "I think my measurements are 34-24-34 but you may want to check, I haven't had the tape out in a while."

I nodded my head, already having begun to pull out a measuring tape from beneath the counter. "And what kind of outfit are you looking for exactly?" Though we sold only formal wear there were certainly a varying amount of different occasions and therefore dresses that would suit each one.

"I'm looking for a dress for a new year's eve party," Lily smiled. "I know it's kind of early but I like to be prepared. It's really formal, a Minist – I mean, a government affair."

"There's no such thing as too early," I said with a smile of my own and a wave of my hand. It was a saying I'd picked up from Saria several years ago.

I decided not to ask about the government thing as I tried not to pry where other people were concerned. Maybe she was really successful in that industry, though she only looked about twenty. Influential parents seemed more likely – there were a lot of women like that who shopped at Spectrum.

"Well," Lily clapped her hands together. "Where should I start looking?"

Moving out from behind the counter, I led the redhead over to one of the furthest racks. It was like a rainbow, arranged by colour and then size and then style. Mutely I stood behind her, allowing her to sift through the dresses, holding out my arms for the few she thought might be suitable and occasionally offering my input as to whether or not a certain shade would clash with her vibrant hair.

When my arms got heavy under the combined weights of all the fabrics, I suggested she go try them on in the dressing room. Lily happily agreed and bounced after me as I led the way through the cushioned tunnel. A few times she squealed, each time adding something else to the pile. Several pairs of shoes, a few clutch bags and one hair piece later, we arrived.

Just as I'd finished hanging all of the garments up in her dressing room, the chime of the bell sounded and, though it easily could have been Amelia back from her cupcake run, I figured it was best to go check. Good call, for when I wandered away from the dressing rooms back towards the cushioned hallway, I saw the back of a messy haired man idly poking at a few cabinets full of jewellery (Amelie and Saria's brother was a highly successful jeweller).

"I'll just be up front if you need me," I called to Lily. A second later she shouted back a high-pitched 'okay' but I was already marching away, the sound of my steps muffled against the carpeted floor beneath my feet.

When I finally reached the man I felt more than a little intimidated. Men could be violent. Their preliminary weapon of choice was their fists, not their words, like it was for most women. And so, stood a few strides away from a nearing six foot tall man, muscular arms defined despite his heavy coat, I was ready to run scarce rather than face him.

Eventually I managed to cough out a few words. "Um, hello. How can I, er, help you, sir?"

He turned at the sound of my voice, spinning wildly on his heel. Though I feared he'd found that section of the floor, laminated not carpeted, far slippier than he'd expected. He floundered for a few tense moments, his balance completely escaping him. In one arm he held a to-go coffee cup, the scalding liquid closer to the brim than my anxiety would've liked.

I reached out for his forearms despite the warning signs flashing in my mind but I was too late. His foot gave way beneath him and he fell, arms flung high as the coffee dropped to the floor. There was liquids everywhere; in my shoes, on the glass cabinets, down one side of the man's shirt.

Utterly shocked by the turn of events, I stood stuttering gibberish. When I met the man's eyes, it appeared he was completely astounded too. He was still wincing, braced against a fall that had already occurred. I didn't know what to do – what to say.

And that's when Lily walked back in.

"_James?!"_ she cried, astonished. "What in Merlin's name have you done?"

"I – you know him?" I asked, equally surprised.

"He's my _brother," _she grumbled, quickly marching over – in a gorgeous slim-fitted cream dress – and dragging the man – James, she'd said – up from his puddle of coffee. "I asked you to _meet _me here not ruin the place," she shot at him, her eyes dangerous daggers.

"I'm so sorry," once he was back on his feet he was quick to apologise, ignoring the non-verbal threats from his sister as he turned to me. He leant across the expanse between us and clasped my hand; his face flooded with what I thought seemed to be a sincere apology. "Seriously," he took a second to read my nametag, "Freya. Whatever you name, I'll do it…Your wish is my command, if you prefer." His eyes scanned the debris of his accident as he continued his words. "I feel so terrible."

He was still holding my hand, the feel of it tingling up from my fingertips right to my shoulder. It was warm despite the winter month and calloused beneath my gentle touch.

"I – you don't need to do anything," I said, tucking a vaguely sodden strand of white-blonde hair behind my ear. "It was an honest mistake. And it was my fault really - I shouldn't have startled you like that."

He shook his head and with it the vibrations reached mine through our connected touch. "Could I ask you out to coffee, at least? To apologise properly?" My mouth opened to retort when he added, "besides, I need a new one now mine is all over your shop's floor."

I wasn't sure what made me agree in the end, really. Not after everything that had happened in my past.

Maybe it was the way he genuinely seemed sorry. Maybe it was that I liked Lily and therefore felt that I owed it to her brother. Maybe it was because the shy sparkle in his eyes made my tiny heart flutter a mile a minute.

"Sure," I breathed out eventually. "Yeah, I'd love to. How's this Saturday?"

"Perfect," he grinned. Then, winking, "it's a date."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lily roll her eyes but then I noticed the tiny smirk adorned on her lips. She wasn't bothered, then. Though I think I was a little, by the term 'date'. I hadn't been on one of those since I was sixteen.

For the first time James seemed to notice his sister's attire. "Woah, are you getting that one Lils? It's a knockout, you look beautiful."

"Do you think so?" Her grin was, if possible, even wider than it was when she first spoke to me in the shop. It was obvious they shared a close, familial bond. Lily twirled in it, the bottom of the dress skirting the top of the laminate less than a centimetre from reaching the floor.

"Yeah, it's amazing."

I nodded my agreement. "Your girlfriend will love it!"

"Enough for a lucky night in?" she winked.

I chuckled awkwardly but grinned all the same. "Quite possibly."

As the three of us (well, mainly just Lily and I) stood there, chatting lightly about shoe and accessories options, Amelie decided to finally make an appearance after almost an hour away from the shop. She entered carrying a little goody bag with my name on it, her eyes going wide when she saw the mess in the middle of the room. "So guys," she trotted over. "What _exactly _have I missed?"

* * *

_A/N: __Thanks for reading! Reviews feed my soul ;)_

_Disclaimer: Vogue does not belong to me. Nor does the world of Harry Potter. Eleganza, however, is my own creation._

_xo_


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